You Want to Burn Something?
by GuardianAthens
Summary: 2P!Verse. In which the Axis gets their monthly shipment of new weapons, and Italy finds that they got a special new toy to play with, and everyone in the Axis house wants a crack at using it to let out some pent up anger. Who called for a flammable mannequin?


_**I don't know what possessed me to write this but...I got random inspiration to write it, so...**_

_**I wrote my first 2P!Verse fanfiction!**_

_**This actually was fun to write. I borrowed a few things, like the design and/or human names for 2p!Hungary, 2p!Austria, 2p!Spain and 2p!Prussia, so those aren't mine! I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to Review!**_

* * *

It was Shipment Day. Thank god, or whoever seemed to watch over them, that it was Shipment Day. The one, sometimes two, day that brought shiny, blood-free weapons they could test out and try before using it on their enemies, the Allies. God, was it a beautiful day for Shipments to arrive. Italy bounced on his feet as the usual boxes were unloaded to the back of the house, the loaders watching the tanned Italian in some sort of interest. They didn't interest Italy though at all; whatever was in the crates interested him more than a few heavy set Germans in tight shirts. Besides, he already had one inside, so no point wasting away perfectly good Germans.

As the last crate landed inside the warehouse behind the house, the driver came up to him just as he did every month. He quickly gave him a quick once-over look, and then tossed the manifold at him and promptly left without questions. Italy was just glad that the driver was Italian, and knew how he worked. As he gripped the manifold and watched the men load up and pile whatever wasn't his back inside, he couldn't help but notice that one of the Germans looked like his. He gave a rather quick wink at the man as he turned to look at him, and then walked into the warehouse, leaving the men to fuss over which one of them got the wink.

Fucking pathetic, fighting over his affection. There was never a need to fight over it.

He didn't look through the manifold at all this time. He wanted it to be a surprise. He still hopped along the side of warehouse, looking for the crowbar that should be laying just near the door that lead into the house, unless Romano had gone for a 'job', or Prussia came back to the shared home of the Axis. Either way, the trusty metal blunt weapon wasn't there, but the blood that replaced it gave him the clue on who took it. He sat the manifold down on the crate that was propped up near the stairs, and ran a finger through the puddle. It was fairly fresh.

"Stefano…."

He clenched his now blood-stained gloves and stomped inside, furious that his fratello had forgotten to replace the damn crowbar when he was done with his work! He KNOWS that Shipment Day was coming, right? He would NOT fuck up his happiness to tear some poor human who interfered with the mafia to pieces. As he came to the start of the inside stairs, the balcony facing him, he shouted out to the probably resting house of the Axis Powers.

"WHERE THE HELL IS THE MOTHERFUCKING CROWBAR?!"

What do you expect? Its five o'clock in the morning and he needed his crowbar to get the shipments out. He was going to get his crowbar if he had to kill someone in this house with his fucking toothbrush to get it. Hungary stormed out, her usual Hungarian-style red and brown tattoos saying hello first. She rubbed at her short-cut brown hair, and tucked the butt end of her chest bindings behind her back. She looked over the balcony, squinting as if she just woke up.

"Check with Stef. He's down in his usual dungeon. You're just lucky I'm here, and not Lutz"

THAT caught Italy's attention as he turned to head to the basement. He backed up, watching as Hungary leaned on the banister of the balcony.

"What's wrong with Lutz?" Hungary laughed as pointed down the hallway to her right; the direction of his bedroom.

"He was chased again by Iggy. ALL NIGHT. Got here only about two, three hours ago. Been trying to sleep ever since"

Oh shit, well actually all he needed to do was NOT scream at everyone for the crowbar. The one thing he feared more than pasta leaving his life was Lutz mad from no sleep. He was just…entirely frightening, like a devil spawn. He didn't want to go into detail, , on how he got him mad from sleep deprivation. Ugh, he could still feel the only scar given by Lutz ripple on his back. He just hoped he didn't sleep with his knife in his room again. He shivered, and then nodded in agreement. Hungary nodded back.

"So no shouting, or screaming…..or stabbing and or killing someone or something that is prone to scream or shout loud"

God dammit, now he couldn't stab or shoot Romano! He huffed out angrily, and then proceeded to stomp his way down into the dark refines of the house, home to both Romano's dungeon, and Prussia's unknown one that no one but Prussia, Austria, and a bunch of pour fucking souls that never came back out have seen the inside of. He rapped his knuckles on the metal door of Romano's dungeon, earning only a faint groan. Nope, he was already done. Thank whoever was watching over him again, because he kicked the fuck out of that shit, caving in the metal until he could see inside. The little blond prick was just sharpening fucking knives with a poor, 20-ish looking dude tied to one of the walls.

"Stefano, let me in, I KNOW you have the fucking crowbar!"

Romano turned from his sharpening stone, and looked at his brother now foaming at the mouth as he looked over the bent edge of his now dented, destroyed door. He sighed, wiping his hair back from his face, and set down the knives. Maybe a small break would be good. He looked quickly at his friend on the wall, who tried to scream out from his gag, only ending up to muffle out some sort of sentence. He then chucked one of the knives right between his face and shoulder, grabbed the crowbar which was wedged just underneath his balls, and faced his brother, who was trying to claw for the handle to open the motherfucking door.

"Sorry, but it kept him from muttering all the time. I'll use something else to keep him from trying to talk"

Italy wiped his mouth free of foam, and gladly took the crowbar from his brother's hand. He scraped at his knuckles as he did so, drawing up faint lines of delicate crimson. As he hopped down from the corner of the broken door, he could see Romano wave goodbye with his bloodied hand, and went back to work at the poor guy he was going to fuck up. He could hear the joyous sound of metal on metal.

"So, Mr. Derickson, care to tell a little more about your time in my warehouse?"

"F-fuck you!"

Italy had to giggle; the man just earned himself death. Maybe he could help loosen his tongue, maybe a few other things…..

"USE THE POTTY TRAINER FRATELLO!" Italy shouted as he made his way out of the dark underground facilities. He could hear his brother shout back in agreement. Then blissful silence quickly followed by the screaming, hysterical crying, cursing, and sudden splatting of something liquid and solid on the metal floor. Aaahh, the usefulness of the Potty Trainer. Never gets old, honestly.

He made his way upstairs, once more hearing something liquid and solid hitting floors from the darkness of the torture chambers downstairs. Seriously though, he would have to personally use the Potty Trainer one of these days to see the effect it had on someone again. He slammed the crowbar down into his other palm as he walked back into the warehouse, passing the manifold and straight to the first crate in front of him. Using one of the smaller ones to boost him up, he climbed up to the top of it, digging the edge of the bloodied crowbar into the crate lid. He pulled hard, feeling and hearing the snap of wood come off the seals. Another few tugs and he was flying off the top of it, using the lid as his landing pad. It was rather solid and barely splintered as it hit the ground. He sat up quickly, giddy on what was in the large crate this time. He climbed back to the top, and dove into the packing peanut pool, hoping something like his brand new set of 50 different Russian, Italian, and Romanian knives came in. Instead, when he found the large object and its companions, it wasn't knives. It was something WAY bigger and WAY more fun than knives! Oh ho, this was going to be fun.

He started to break the sides of the crate swimming pool, his foot striking through several times before the side exploded into wood and a flood of pink packing peanuts, Italy, and the weapon and its partnering supplies came out. He spat out a few packing peanuts, and slowly lifted up the new weapon.

Thank god for Shipment Day!

* * *

Hungary was looking through the fridge when the sound first started up. It sounded like something exploding, but with less…..explosions. Less power, like someone was trying to shoot something out of a cannon without the gun powder. She was just grabbing for her pre-made omelet courtesy of Romano, who could cook like a fucking god, when the room shook enough for her to lose her footing, and to almost lose her omelet. She growled as she got up, and set her omelet on the counter. She was going to murder whoever knocked down her breakfast. She went for the orange juice, and just as she started to pour, it came again. Her ass found the floor, and so did her glass, juice, and her fucking breakfast omelet she'd dreamed about this morning 'cause she could smell it earlier.

"THAT'S IT!"

She was done, completely done, fuming with steam coming out of her ears. Whoever was shaking the damn house had ruined her mood, and her food! The five-second rule was now far gone to call, and so she slammed the omelet, its plate, and her cracked glass into the sink and stomped herself down one of the hallways, following the sounds of laughter, of happiness. Whoever was having a good time must have ruined hers, because now she was freakishly hungry! As she neared the laughing, she snarled, clawed hands now curled into lethal fists. As she turned a sharp right into the threshold of the room, her sudden hostility….stopped dead in the water.

Italy was in the middle of dark weapons testing room, smiling almost psychotically, or at least more than usual. He was prancing around like a deer almost, super excited. He had heavy leather gloves on, and his usual hat was upon his head.

"Ve~, hey Irisko, guess what, guess what?!" he sounded too happy. _He sounds too happy._ He must have done something beyond his usual horror to be this happy. Maybe he finally was able to fuck Germany. Wait, that couldn't have happened, she was nearby. Okay, so what happened to make Italy, tsundere and cold hearted to the bone, to be so happy?

"It's Shipment Day, and we got a new toy!"

Ooooohhhhhh. Shipment Day. Of course, that's why he needed the crowbar earlier.

"New toy?" Hungary was interested. She walked in farther to the testing room, and her jaw dropped to the ground like her breakfast. Italy took hold of the new toy, and proudly held it up for her to see. He smiled proudly as it started up, flames building up at the nozzle.

"We got a flamethrower"

He sounded so excited, so gitty. It was bordering squealing, like fangirling squeeling. He held the large weapon like it was his baby, a toy only he got to care for. He ran a hand over the main part of the fun toy, smiling ear to ear. Yep, his toy. Maybe he would let her use it!

"Hey, Hun-Hun. Did you fix the old dummy by any chance? I want to burn something. Oh! OH! Maybe do you have any pictures of anyone?"

Yep, she would SO get to use it!

"Actually yes to both! Just finished sewing up the old fucker. Let me go get 'em!" she ran out of the room, giddy herself suddenly that she just may be able to play with the fun flamethrower. She found herself silently squealing as she found her brand new mannequin, and those sets of pictures she took of everyone secretly the last World Meeting. Ooooooh, this was going to be so AWESOME!

She tucked the photos into a tan envelope, which she tucked under her arm, and as fast as she could, she started to push the mannequin down the hall back to Weapons Testing. It was time to burn the fuck out of some shit. She tried to move quickly through the main foyer, not to disturb Lutz, who was still sleeping. She moved quickly, almost losing the pictures, but made it. She pushed the ready sack to the middle of the front of the room. Italy looked at the mannequin with intense amounts of joy, jumping up and down with the flamethrower in one hand.

"Now…" Hungary started, pulling out the photos, spreading them out on the nearby prep table. "Which face shall we burn to gooey plastic, because I laminated these"

Italy did not turn around to face her, but cocked something in the weapon, hearing the fuels in it churn and blend, a small flame building up at the nozzle again.

"Irisko, give me Iggy's fucking face to burn!"

And so, a picture of Iggy's happy-happy-joy-joy face went up on the mannequin's blank face. The fucking pink haired, bow-tie wearing, cupcake making, poison-fetished freak of a United Nation. The only thing that gets in the way of his Germany, of his love. Of his only fucking chance to get laid! The freak who seems to take a liking to him, and stalks him into all hours of the night, and throws his own plans to the dust. Italy pivoted, balancing the gun just off his hip, pointing it right at the dummy. He backed up, making sure he didn't light himself on fire when he let it all loose.

"LET 'EM BURN!" He squeezed the trigger, and he felt everything in the machine coil and then just let go, the nozzle opening wide and releasing a wide burst of flames straight in a fan motion at the dummy, lighting the front of it and the picture up in red, orange and yellow. IT lit up in glorious heat, almost searing through Italy. It felt amazing, and let his heart fire up faster than he thought.

"Burn you striped stalking motherfucker, ahahaha!" Italy cackled as he held the trigger strong. He could start to smell the molten plastic melt under the intense heat, and he slowly snapped the trigger, shutting off the main stream of flames. The mannequin still burned with leftover flames, the picture now melting down in colored dust and melting blue and pink plastic. He lifted the heavy machine over his shoulder and smiled proudly at his work.

"AAaahhh, I love the smell of melting Iggy pictures in the afternoon" Italy exclaimed, watching the last of the flames die out, leaving only scorched mannequin, and melting, dripping plastic down the front of the dummy. He sniffed the air, chest swelling. Seriously, the smell was a bit intoxicating. He looked over at Hungary, and offered the heavy metal toy over.

"Want a go at it?"

This is what she had waited for. THIS was the moment! She groped for it before Italy laughed and handed it over to her. It was heavier then she thought, but she got the feel for it. She propped it p like Italy did.

"Which victim?" he asked pawing through the photos. Hungary squeezed down the trigger albeit, noticing the increase of size of the small flame at the nozzle.

"Give me Al" she growled, and watched as Italy went up and stuck a picture of the proclaimed 'bad-ass' motherfucker who wore his shades too much on the semi-cool melted plastic, sticking it to it. "That American fuck has gone overboard"

She shifted the machine's position before slowly pushing the trigger down.

"I got a pocket, got a pocketful of BURN IN HELL!" She sang-cackled, and slammed the rigger down, watching the flames burst from the machine, feeling it hum under her palms, and cackled insanely as she burned the fuck out of the dummy and the picture. The sizzling and melting of the picture could be seen through the flames, the heavy hues melting into the light melted ones, making a disgusting plastic colored mess on the mannequin. She smiled wide as she let the trigger loose, and admired her work. No more Al, who now melted down to the floor.

"Fucking piece of shit…" she spat. Italy cackled behind her, jumping up and down at the mess of the pictures. This toy really was what they needed. Seemingly, on cue, blond-haired Romano stuck his head inside, curious. He was clean of any bodily liquids, dawning loose clothes, proving it was a weekend; a day for basement torture and no fancy Italian suits.

"What is going on?"

Hungary smirked, and started up the flamethrower, shooting one more burst of flames at the mannequin, scaring the shit out of Romano, who promptly fell to the floor in a stream of curses. He then looked up at the weapon at awe. She let the trigger go and heaved it up against her shoulder. Italy popped up next to her, giddy and bouncing on the front of his feet, pointing at it.

"We got a new toy, and it's a flamethrower. Want to try?"

Romano shot straight up, not bothering with fixing his attire, and groped for it in the air, eyes shining like the flames it produced. He even forgot his own pair of shades on the ground. Hungary handed over the flamethrower to the excited mafia leader, and stepped up next to Italy, who stood ready at the prep table for photo choosing. Romano got himself comfortable with it on his hip.

"Alright, who's to burn next?" Hungary called out, leafing through the photos. Romano peaked over his shoulder, and then smirked.

"Santiago, I believe, is up next" he said with a snarl. Italy picked out one of the few faces of Spain they had, and slapped it on the dummy. It still stuck, and Romano cackled as he stared with smoking anger at the damn picture. He was _smirking_ in that frame. Even better.

"Rough time still with him?" Hungary called out from the back. Romano nodded.

"The fucker won't do anything with me! The fuck deserves to BURN. Here's ALL THE FUCKS I GIVE ABOUT YOU SPAIN!"

He squeezed the trigger down home, and walked in utter amazement as the mannequin, and the picture went up in flames. He cackled loud enough for probably the whole house to hear, and swung it around, bringing the entirety of it up in flames. As he could see drops of molten plastic hit the ground, he let go of the trigger, marveling that his target was just now melted plastic dripping down the mannequin front. Small flames at the black, crispy shoulder still burned though. He gave a triumphant laugh, and his audience clapped. It was a good burn.

"I wonder if Austria's here. He would pay you anything to use it" Hungary whispered to Italy as Romano bowed for them, setting the flamethrower along an arm, but was careful enough to know it could probably burn his arm off.

"Lukas _would_ pay me to use it. We have pictures of Prussia, right?" Hungary looked through the pile, and picked out three different ones of Prussia. The man looked like a psycho in two of them.

"Of course, even though Kristof isn't real photogenic"

They both smirked, and Romano handed back the toy…..Just as a rather disheveled Germany showed up! Oh, this was going to be fun. Everything was off on Germany; his shirt more askew than normal, parts of his usually perfectly slicked back hair hung down. His pants hung lower then they usually do (no belt), and he was devoid of any form of shoes, his tan jacket, and his hat. Even his Iron Cross hung now behind him.

Italy, who was already freaked out, grabbed for the flamethrower, and pulled the trigger, barely giving a window for reaction time for his target.

Germany seemed to instantly wake up, and jumped back form the now on-fire door, the flames singeing his arms as he slammed the hell out of there. He hit his head hare as well on the other wall. The flames instantly died down, and soon Italy was cursing up a storm, and almost sounded like he was crying. It seemed the other in the testing room were frozen in place. Germany groaned as he sat up, trying to keep his face from twitching as the burns on his arms noticed he was moving. He slowly got up, and noticed that Italy, somehow, really WAS sobbing. He walked into the Testing Room to find the thing he expected.

Italy was on the ground bawling. Hungary and Romano were trying to get him up. Just as Hungary noticed him, Italy was up and running at him, apologizing in tearful mess. Germany was…a bit lost on how the hell he was in this pile of emotion. He was shouting apologies left and right, and he had no way of responding. He looked to Romano and Hungary for help. They just shrugged. Well, they were helpful.

"I'm sorry for trying to kill you again; I thought you were mad because we woke you up!" Italy said, finally more coherent. Germany still really didn't know what to do.

"Not mad, though now my arms are a bit burned" He said, pushing the Italian back, calming him down. "Thanks for that wake-up call"

Italy sniffled, the tears done and gone with. He looked at Germany's arms, noticing the pink and red tinged patches running up and down them. He did get burned albeit. Hungary and Romano still stood awkwardly behind them.

"Well, now you know we got a new toy!" Italy said, patting the toy not seated down. Hungary and Romano held up several photos, shaking them.

"Want to burn something?" the three said in unison. Germany looked to the dummy still smoldering from the last assault, dripping with melting plastic and paper turned to dust. He then looked to the machine Italy now caresses with a gloved hand. He smiled, like actually smiled, at Italy.

"Give me every picture of the Cupcake freak. I want to see him burn"


End file.
